Stupid Thirteen
by ef-san
Summary: "Stupid Curse. Stupid Rookwood. Stupid Dumbledore. Why the hell this kind of things always happened to me?" After the Battle of Hogwarts, a misspelled curse hit Harry and make him deaged for thirteen years. A chance of normal childhood for him. Yea, right, as if! Normal is so underrated. Harry goes to King's Primary School where he retake his education, and meet a certain someone.
1. Chapter 1: Prologue

Hello! This is my first fanfiction here. English is not my first language, so please forgive me for many mistakes.

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><p><strong>Chapter 1<strong>

**Prologue**

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><p><strong>2 May 1998, Hogwarts' Great Hall<strong>

_Bellatrix's gloating smile froze, her eyes seemed to bulge: For the tiniest space of time she knew what had happened, and then she toppled, and the watching crowd roared, and Voldemort screamed._

_Harry felt as though he turned in slow motion; he saw McGonagall, Kingsley, and Slughorn blasted backward, flailing and writhing through the air, as Voldemort's fury at the fall of his last, best lieutenant exploded with the force of a bomb. Voldemort raised his wand and directed it at Molly Weasley._

"_Protego__!" roared Harry, and the Shield Charm expanded in the middle of the Hall, and Voldemort stared around for the source as Harry pulled off the Invisibility Cloak at last._

_The yell of shock, the cheers, the screams on every side of "Harry!" "HE'S ALIVE!" were stifled at once. The crowd was afraid, and silence fell abruptly and completely as Voldemort and Harry looked at each other, and began, at the same moment, to circle each other._

_. . ._

_They were still moving sideways, both of them, in that perfect circle, maintaining the same distance from each other, and for Harry no face existed but Voldemort's. The watching crowd was frozen as if Petrified, and of the hundreds in the Hall, nobody seemed to breathe but they two._

_. . ._

"_It's your one last chance," said Harry, "it's all you've got left. . . . I've seen what you'll be otherwise. . . . Be a man . . . try . . . Try for some remorse. . . ."_

_. . ._

"_The true master of the Elder Wand was Draco Malfoy."_

_. . ._

"_So it all comes down to this, doesn't it?" whispered Harry. "Does the wand in your hand know its last master was Disarmed? Because if it does . . . I am the true master of the Elder Wand."_

_. . ._

"_Avada Kedavra!"_

"_Expelliarmus!"_

_. . ._

_Voldemort fell backward, arms splayed, the slit pupils of the scarlet eyes rolling upward. Tom Riddle hit the floor with a mundane finality, his body feeble and shrunken, the white hands empty, the snakelike face vacant and unknowing. Voldemort was dead, killed by his own rebounding curse, and Harry stood with two wands in his hand, staring down at his enemy's shell._

_One shivering second of silence, the shock of the moment suspended and then the tumult broke around Harry as the screams and the cheers and the roars of the watchers rent the air._

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><p>Augustus Rookwood, regained consciousness after stunned by Aberforth Dumbledore just a moment ago. Cheers and roars of peoples greeted him, and a clearly alive Harry Potter stood in the midst of the cheering peoples. He looked around the Hall, looking for his lord. What he found was his lord's shrunken, unmoved, and certainly dead body. White hot fury rose inside him.<p>

He raised his hand and aimed at the boy-who-lived. 'Well, no more!' he tought. 'He will not be the boy-who-lived anymore after I done with him.'

'No, death is too good for him,' Rookwood contemplated for a second, 'suffer. . . yes, a long years of suffering suited him better. Thirteen years sound good, yes, I will make him suffer!' He fired his spell.

Not a second after Rookwood fired the curse, a series of "HARRY! Look out!" was heard. But, too late. A battle weary and tired Harry Potter had no energy left to duck or cast a protego.

The last thing Harry saw was a shade of green light of the curse before a scream of anguish ripped from his throat. And then, it was all black. . .

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><p><strong>Few days later, Hogwarts' Infirmary<strong>

Black. Darkness was all he saw. Then, a flicker of light. His fluttered eyelid slowly opened. A blinding light assaulted a pair of emerald green eyes. A split second later, the owner of said eyes groaned. 'The light hurt, godammit!'

Slowly Harry opened his eyes again and adjusted to the light. He sat up and comprehended his surrounding. Bed with white sheet, distinct smell of potions, 'ah, I'm in the infirmary. . . I'm not dead then,' he realized.

Madam Pomfrey who heard his groan before, now stood beside his bed. "All you alright, Mr. Potter?" She asked.

"A little bit dizzy, Madam. Where is my glasses?" His voice sounded a bit weird to his ears.

"It's on the bedside table. Do you need something Mr. Potter?"

"Yeah, a headache reliving potion and water would be appreciated." Harry felt his throat parched. Possibly, it was the cause of the weird voice.

Madam Pomfrey left to retrieve said potion. Harry reached the bedside table to take his glasses. His hand stopped in mid air. Blink, blink, 'w…wait, my hand, was it always this small?' he pondered. He took his glasses, wore it, and felt it was a little bigger than usual.

Suddenly, Harry got a bad feeling. He looked at his right hand, slowly trailed his view to the arm. He did the same to the left one. Feeling something was not right, he shed the blanket from his lap. A moment of silence, then. . .

"What the hell happened to my body?!"

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><p>Well, this is for first chapter. Comment, critic, flame, whatever, tell me please! Thanks for reading.<p> 


	2. Chapter 2: Thirteen Years Deaged

Well, since I forgot it in the first chapter, here is it.

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter and Prince of Tennis are not mine. They belong to J.K. Rowling and Takeshi Konomi respectively.**

Need I say? Not a first language, probably many mistake, sorry and all that shit.

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><p><strong>Chapter 2<strong>

**Thirteen Years Deaged**

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><p><strong>6 May 1998, Hogwarts' Infirmary<strong>

One day passed after Harry's little freak out in infirmary. Hogwarts' residences had been dying to know the fate of our esteemed hero. Most thought that Harry was mortally wounded and can't escape the evil clutch of the Matron. If someone passed the infirmary and had the urge to peek inside, they would found an adorable scene. Well, said scene was not meant to be adorable.

Time currently was after dinner. A boy, four years old or so, sitting on the bed and glared at who knows what. A glare was not meant to be adorable per se. But when you saw the boy-who-glared was a four years old with a pair of amazingly emerald green eyes, wearing a glasses that was a bit bigger for him, while crossing his arm and grumbled, muttered, and grouched alone, it looked like a pout. Yeah, a cute pout indeed, not a scary glare.

While the boy was busy pouting, err, glaring, the infirmary's door was knocked. "Harry, we're coming in," was heard from behind the door. A moment later, two figures stepped inside the infirmary.

"Hey, mate! How's life? Everything is good, right?" asked a redhead boy nonchalantly. Said redhead was elbowed in the gut a second later. "Honestly, Ronald! Have you no tact at all?!" a bushy haired girl scolded her companion.

"Hello, Harry. How do you feel? Still feeling dizzy?" Hermione asked the little boy's wellbeing. "No, not dizzy. But you know, I've a little, ah, complication." the four years old, which was now identified as Harry Potter, answered.

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><p>Ah, right. Meet Harry Potter. His full name was Harry James Potter-Black. The sole remaining member of House of Potter, an old wealthy pure-blooded family, and the inheritor of The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, an even more older and wealthier pure-blooded wizarding family in Britain. He was born on 31 July 1980, 17 years old. He would be 18 this year, if only the complication didn't happen.<p>

A misspell curse from Augustus Rookwood caused his body to deaged for thirteen years. The curse was supposed to make Harry suffer for thirteen years in continuous pain and agony. Why thirteen? Well, Lord Voldemort spent thirteen years of life in a weaker form, spirit and then humanoid baby, before he regained his body in 1994. It would be appropriate if Lord Voldemort's mortal enemy experienced the same amount of time which his lord spent suffering, the twisted logic of Rookwood concluded. Alas, in the state of his white hot fury, Rookwood misspell the curse. _Tredecim annis passionis_ –which means thirteen years of suffering–, became _tredecim annos passionis_, thirteen age of suffering. **(1)**

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><p>"Stupid Curse. Stupid Rookwood. Stupid Dumbledore. Why the hell this kind of things always happened to me?" Harry muttered under his breath. His two best friends glanced at each other. They exchanged a 'what the hell we should do in this bizarre circumstances' look.<p>

"Um, Harry, I know that the curse is stupid, and I don't doubt Rookwood is also at fault for misspelling the curse. But, what did you mean by stupid Dumbledore?" Hermione asked, thoroughly confused.

"Well, it's because of stupid Dumbledore and his stupid second chance. Who the bloody hell fought in a war with just a stunning spell?! Why did he just stunned Rookwood?! He should break a limb or two, or snapped his wand!" Harry ranted.

"Urgh, mate, which Dumbledore are you talking about?" Ron getting confused as Harry ranted.

"Both of them!" Harry yelled frustratingly.

"Okay, chill, mate." Ron said as he tried to calm Harry down.

"Hummph!" Harry snorted and turned his head away.

"Aww, so cute!" Hermione couldn't take it anymore and pinched Harry's cheeks.

"I'm not cute!" Harry shouted indignantly.

And so, their teasing and bickering continued until late that night and Madam Pomfrey kicked Ron and Hermione out of infirmary.

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><p><strong>10 May 1998, Hogwarts' Great Hall<strong>

Peoples gathered in the Hall, having lunch with friends and family, whatever was left after the war anyway. They were jumbled together, nobody was sitting according house anymore. Just yesterday, they held a war memorial for the fallen victims from Battle of Hogwarts. **(2)**

Now, they were enjoying the delicious Hogwarts lunch, courtesy of its many house elves. Many couldn't help but curiously wondered why there was a kid that looked like a mini Potter, pottering around the Great Hall. **(3)**

Harry wandered around the Great Hall, and greeted everyone he knew. Not many people knew the truth about Harry, so people assumed that the little boy just had an uncanny resemblance to the boy-who-lived. While Harry was chatting with Luna, someone tapped his shoulder.

"Mr. Potter, if you would come for a moment. I need to talk to you about something urgent." Madam Pomfrey gestured towards the door, intending to talk outside of others' range.

Harry nodded and excused himself from Luna. Some hushed whisper followed Harry as he walked behind Madam Pomfrey.

"Pssst, did you hear that? Madam Pomfrey called the kid Mr. Potter." "What is the kid relation with Harry Potter?" "Don't tell me, the kid was Harry Potter himself." Were some of the things that Harry could hear as he walked outside.

Outside the Great Hall, Madam Pomfrey faced Harry. A regretful look was on her face. Seeing that look, Harry was filled with dread feeling.

"What is it, Madam Pomprey? Is there something you want to tell me?" Harry asked, fearing the worst outcome.

"Well, the thing is, Mr. Potter. . ." Madam Pomfrey said hesitantly.

All that whispers in the Great Hall were still going on even with the little Potter out of vicinity. The peoples began speculated all possibilities that can happened, nosy busybody. And all that whispers were cut by a high-pitched girly, umm, manly scream.

"WHAT?!" All whispers stopped. "What did you mean that my condition is irreversible?!" Shocked, Harry fainted.

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><p><strong>Some notes from this chapter, read if you want.<strong>

**(1) Um, I don't know latin at all. The made up spell comes from typing randomly in google translate.**

**(2) I don't exactly know the date, of if a war memorial really happened in the story. Just made up the date, giving the family a reasonable week of grieving. **

**(3) Sorry, couldn't resist the pun.**

Presumed all other death eaters captured and imprisoned, to avoid unnecessary plot about death eater hunts a little, defenseless, and small Harry.

Atobe will come a little later. I want to take care of the wizarding world affairs first.

Comment, critic, question, flame, whatever, PM or review me.

Thanks for reading.


	3. Chapter 3: 4 Years 10 Months 11 Days

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter and Prince of Tennis are not mine. They belong to J.K. Rowling and Takeshi Konomi respectively.**

Need I say? Not a first language, probably many mistake, sorry and all that shit.

This is it, the third chapter of Stupid Thirteen. Enjoy!

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><p><strong>Chapter 3<strong>

**4 Years, 10 Months, and 11 Days**

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><p><strong>10 May 1998, Hogwarts' Infirmary<strong>

After losing his consciousness, Harry woke up in the infirmary. 'Well, what did we have here? Certainly this is not an unfamiliar place.' Harry thought sarcastically. 'What is it with me and infirmary? Will we always be together throughout my miserable life?' Harry's thought process became increasingly dramatic. He groaned.

"Harry! You're awake!" Hermione, who was sitting on the chair next to his bed, jumped and exclaimed.

"Urgh, what happened, Mione?" Harry then looked around, "where's Ron?"

"Ron in the Great Hall, it's dinner time now. I'll also go there in a minute." Hermione answered his question, paused for a second, then continued, "as for what happened, well, you fainted. So, we brought you here."

"Tch," he wiggled his right index finger back and forth, "men don't faint, Mione. We just take unintended, decisive naps," Harry said condescendingly.

"Yeah, right, whatever floats your boat, Harry." Hermione deadpanned. "So, I'm thinking maybe you should have dinner, and rest a little bit, so none of those unintended decisive naps happen again."

"Of course! That's a good idea, Mione!" Harry chose to pretend not to hear her tone. "Kreacher!" he called his now loyal house elf.

With a crack, Kreacher appeared, "little master Harry, what can Kreacher do for little master?" Harry's brow twitched when he heard the word 'little'. Ignoring it, for now, Harry turned to Kreacher, "would you bring me some dinner, please?" he requested, and Kreacher disapparated.

A moment later, Kreacher apparated with a tray containing Harry's dinner –soup, some sandwiches, a glass of pumpkin juice, and of course a slice of treacle tart–. Harry thanked Kreacher, and the house elf dissaparated again.

"Then, little master," teased Hermione, "I'll also have dinner now," she walked towards the infirmary's door. When her hand touched the doorknob, Hermione paused, "oh yeah," as if remembering something. "Don't forget to rest after dinner. So, those unintended decisive naps won't happen again. We'll talk again tomorrow, little master." With that, Hermione left the infirmary.

"I'm not little, thankyouverymuch." heard grumbled from inside the infirmary. Hermione, who was just a step away from the door, just stifled her giggle.

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><p><strong>11 May 1998, Hogwarts' Infirmary<strong>

Chirp. Chirp. Chirp. Sounds of bird singing could be heard, a peaceful Monday morning at Hogwarts. No more war, no more fighting, no more death eaters. All rogue death eaters had been captured and imprisoned, except the defected Malfoys. All's Well That Ends Well, or so it seemed.

"So, mate, that misspelled curse caused your body to deaged," Ron started, "Thirteen years?!" he asked incredulously. Harry just nodded. "So, how old are you now? Four years then?" he enquired.

"Four years ten months and eleven days, not that I'm counting." Harry answered grouchily.

"Uhh, right…" Ron sweat dropped.

"But, Harry. Isn't it a good thing? At least, you just regressed physically. Your magic is still the same as it is." Hermione tried to look on the good side.

"At least, you say?! You know, I've hoped that I'll grow to be tall enough from my 'small and skinny' eleven years old body. And when I've reached the same height as my father, this happened to me!" Harry protested.**(1)**

Ron coughed and muttered under his breath what sounded suspiciously like _cough*drama queen*cough_. Hermione stepped on his foot and Ron winced.

"You can take this as a second chance Harry, a chance of normal childhood for you." Hermione still trying to cheered him up.

"But, still! Why can't I have a normal life for once? No deaged shit like this." Harry became more frustrated. "Yeah, right, as if! Normal is so underrated." He murmured at the end.

"You can retake your muggle education unhindered by the Dursleys. Learn anything you want, and caused little trouble here and there." Just like Hermione to argue about education.

"Mione~," he whined in his now childish voice, "I've had enough trouble for a lifetime."

"Methinks thou doth protest too much." She said exasperated.

"Methinks so too." Ron agreed, a big grin on his face.

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><p><strong>Two months later, mid-July 1998, Hogwarts' Library<strong>

Harry sat alone in the library. Ron and Hermione were helping the renovation of Hogwarts. Harry intended to give a hand too, but later. He was a little occupied for now. 'How the bloody hell did Mione managed to convince me to do this?' he thought. Before him scattered many brochures for muggle primary school in England, both private and public. He had to make the choice before the term started in September.

Tap. Tap. Tap. He tapped the table with his finger. One hand ruffled his already messy hair frustratingly. He was getting bored. And the silence in the library was not helping either. The silence was disturbed by two sets of footsteps, and the sound of chairs being pulled out.

"Hey, mate. How's it going? Have you decided where do you want to go?" Ron started the conversation.

"I don't know. There are so many choices. So, what do you think, Mione?" Harry asked his brainy friend.

"Hmmmm," Hermione contemplated, "since you're going to start from the beginning anyway, you need to find the best school." She glanced briefly at the brochures, and then regarded Harry's opinion, "which one do you prefer, private or public?" she asked Harry.**(2)**

"It doesn't matter whichever it is. Money is not a problem." responded Harry.

Being the sole remaining member of House of Potter, all of its fortune was Harry's belonging. Harry would live comfortably without working for a few years, until he was eligible for work. And with the addition of his inheritance from Sirius, he and his descendants would not need to work ever again. With the interests of many investments from both houses, he could be not working and the gold would still increased.

Hermione took a few brochures and read them carefully. After few minutes she took one of them, "How about this one? It has good curriculum and great facilities." She gave the brochure to Harry. Harry took and read it. At the top, the name of the school was written, King's Primary School.**(3)**

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><p><strong>Note on this chapter:<strong>

**(1) Based on Harry Potter, by the time he was 17, Harry was exactly the same height his father was. James was often described as tall. I did a little research here. Average male height in England is around 5'9"–5'10" (source: Wikipedia). So, I just assumed that Harry was around 5'11"–6' tall.**

**(2)** **Based on my research, primary education in England started from age 5 till 11. By the time term started on 1 September, Harry will be 5 and starting his school from scratch.**

**(3) In case you don't know, the school is the one that Atobe attended while he lived in England. Atobe will come in the next one or two chapter.**

Comment, critic, question, flame, whatever, PM or review me.

Thanks for reading.


	4. Chapter 4: Birthday Shock

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter and Prince of Tennis are not mine. They belong to J.K. Rowling and Takeshi Konomi respectively.**

A/N: It seems that I made a mistake concerning the education in Britain. Last chapter, I wrote that they start primary at age 5. The truth is, there is a reception year before year one─six at primary. Thank you **RandomAsRainbows** and **Sugarhoneymouse** for pointing it out. It will be explained somewhere in this chapter _cough*excuse*cough_.

Need I say? English is not my first language, probably, possibly, most certainly there are mistakes, especially grammar. Sorry and all that shit.

This is it, the fourth chapter of Stupid Thirteen. Enjoy!

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><p><strong>Chapter 4<strong>

**Birthday Shock**

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><p><strong>31 July 1998, Gryffindor's Dorm<strong>

Harry woke up from his sleep groggily. He rubbed his eyes, mussed his hair, stretched his hands and sat on his bed still half-asleep. 'Oh yeah, today's my birthday,' he realized suddenly, 'my fifth birthday.' His face turned sour. "Che. What a state to spent my would be majority," he grumbled, a sullen pout appeared on his face.**(1)**

The curtain around Harry's bed parted, "hey, mate, you're awake!" Ron greeted him. "C'mon birthday boy, let's have a breakfast. I'm starving!" he urged impatiently.

"Wait a minute! Let me get ready first," replied Harry.

After he did his morning routine, Harry and Ron went to the Great Hall. In the common room, they met Hermione and went together. At the Great Hall, peoples wished him a happy birthday. The savior of the wizarding world was popular as always, deaged body or not.

"Harry, what are you going to do today? Any particular agenda you need to take care of?" Hermione enquired.

"I'm going to Gringotts. Need to take care of the vaults and…," he paused for a moment, "ah, I also need to take care of some paper about my enrolment and buy the necessary things," he recalled. "Would you two accompany me, please? I don't really know what to do." He pleaded to Hermione and Ron.

"Alright, we'll go after this," Hermione gestured toward Harry's unfinished breakfast. "Would you like to go too, Ron?" She asked Ron.

"Nah, m'not really," Ron waved his hand, "I don't fancy going…shopping," he shuddered. "Sides, there're much things to be done here." He talked about the unfinished reparation of Hogwarts.

"Okay, suit yourself," Hermione looked at Harry's still unfinished plate, "finish your breakfast! You need it especially in your state right now." she chastised Harry.

"Yes, mom," he grouched. Hermione just gave him a dirty look.

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><p><strong>Few hours later, Gringotts Wizarding Bank<strong>

Harry and Hermione were standing in the line in front of a counter of Gringotts, waiting for their turn. Actually, Harry was a tad nervous. With their deed the last time they were in Gringotts, break-in and not to mention the dragon, he was certain that the goblins were cross with him. 'I must be a nutter, angering the vicious creatures who managed my money,' he thought.

"Next!" The goblin bellowed.

Harry stepped in front of the counter, his small body barely reached the top, his head lowered. "I-I need to see about…my vaults' status," he said hesitantly, peeking at the goblin.

The goblin squinted at him, then sneered when he recognized the little child, "Ah, Mr. Potter, is it your own vaults this time? Not planning to steal again I see."

"Uh, sorry about that," Harry said uncomfortably. "But, it is war! What can I do?! Desperate time called for desperate measures," his tone raised, "so, yeah, umm, sorry," he finished sheepishly. He took a breath, then speak again, "do I need to pay for damages compensation?" he asked the goblin.

Harry looked around the building. The hallway looked as good as new, no ruins in sight. It seemed like all the damages has been repaired.

"No need to, Mr. Potter. Your action has given us much needed security upgrades. In fact, a new security measures had just been installed this month. Would you like to see it?" the goblin said with a nasty smile.

"Thanks, but no thanks. Umm, just to be clear, there's no grudge between us, right?" Harry clarified.

"Not really. It makes no sense to us holding a grudge towards our richest client, after all."

"What?!" Harry's eyes widened, "I knew that Potters were well off, and kind of knew that the Blacks were even more. B-but, to be the richest is just...overwhelming, I guess," he spluttered. "You know a thing or two about this, Hermione?" he asked his best friend.

Hermione shrugged, "sorry, Harry. I tried reading about wizarding nobility once, not that I found out much. My best guess is this kind of information is only available in certain circle." Mean that it only available for the purebloods, the stuck-up kind.

"Well, well, Mr. Potter. Looking from your reactions, it seems we need a full inquiry about your vaults and accounts. With full explanation concerning them," the goblin offered. "For a small fees of course," well a goblin still a goblin, you could not separate them from money.

"As for your companion Mr. Potter, I'm sorry but she could not accompany you. Private family's business and all that rot," the goblin said, without a trace of sorry.

"It looks like it would take a long time anyway," Hermione huffed. "I'll meet you for lunch at Leaky Cauldron, Harry," Hermione waved.

"Yeah, later Mione."

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><p><strong>Some times later, Leaky Cauldron<strong>

Hermione was sitting alone on a table in Leaky Cauldron. She was reading a newly purchased book from Flourish and Blotts. In walked Harry with a dazed look on his face. Without uttering a word, he sat in front of Hermione, still dazed. Hermione looked up from her book.

Could not stand the silence anymore, Hermione spoke, "well, Harry. What makes you so...dazed."

"I got a birthday shock. I think it was a whole new dimension, Mione. The goblin said the richest, but the extents of it...WOW, just WOW!" Harry said with baffled expression.

"Yeah, so? What would be so surprising?" Hermione became more curious.

"That House of Black has the Duke of Islington title on the muggle world, not to mention that Potters also has an earldom, not that many knows. So, I'm technically royalty on both worlds." **(2)**

"You were right, Harry. It just, WOW!" Hermione could not help but agreed.

"No need to lift my hands, ever again. I'm filthy, stinking rich!"

"Language, Harry," Hermione reprimanded him. "What about your school, though? Were you able to take care of some papers?"

"About that, now I'm officially Harry James Potter-Black, birth certificate stated that I was born on 31 July 1993. My parents passed away when I was one, not that it was a lie, but the paper did not exactly specify the date. Lived with my relatives until they moved last year, now lived with a caretaker. Could not go to school last year, so I was homeschooled. That the gist of it." Harry explained.

"A house elf is kind of a caretaker. And the part of could not go to school last year is also true, well if you said horcruxes hunting and trying to end a war is homeschooled. It's a good cover story, nonetheless. They said that the best lies are based on the truth, at least in part." Hermione nodded sagely.

Hermione read her book again. A few moments later, she talked, "I've meant to ask this for some days ago, where would you live now, Harry?"

"12 Grimmauld Place of course, where else?"

"It's a big house for living alone, Harry. Moreover now that you're literally a child."

"But I'm not alone, Mione. I have Kreacher the caretaker." Harry said jokingly. "I'm not helpless. Still have my magic, remember?"

"What about the muggles? If you go to muggle school, won't you noticed by them?"

"The goblins already took care of that. Number 12 is visible to muggles now. They won't question it, some compulsions take care of that." Harry said off-handedly.

"Harry!" Hermione rebuked. "You can't use spells on muggles! It might damage them."

Harry coughed something that sounded like _cough*modified memory*cough_.

"You said something, Harry?" Hermione asked with a sickeningly sweet smile.

"Nope, you heard none, Mione." Harry answered cheekily.

"Now that you will live in muggle world, how about the money?"

"It taken care of, Mione," Harry showed something to Hermione. "The goblins issued this to me. It is like a platinum muggle card. It can be used throughout the world. The cost will be taken directly from my vaults. No need to go back and forth to exchange some galleons."

"But, how about...," Hermione's words were cut off by Harry.

"Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. How long have you been friends with me, Hermione. I'm nothing but stubborn."

"I can't stop you, ain't I?" Hermione sighed.

"Good that you knew." Harry said smugly. "By the way, we need to go to that school. To submit my enrolment and take care of stuffs," he reminded.

"Later. Lunch. Now." Hermione admonished.

"Aye aye, Sir!"

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><p><strong>The notes on this chapter:<strong>

**(1) Age of majority in UK is 18. Harry would be 18 were he not deaged. Not that it mattered in wizarding world.**

**(2) The Duke of Islington is nonexistent in real world, based on my research anyway. CMIIW. Made it up cause 12 Grimmauld Place located in Islington. As for Earl Potter, why not?**

Next chapter will be a little late, about two weeks I think. I'm a little busy with college right now.

Comment, critic, question, flame, or whatever, you can write them all through PM or review. I'll try to reply, mostly around next time I post new chapter.

Bye for now. Ciao.


	5. Chapter 5: Tour to Muggle London

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter and Prince of Tennis are not mine. They belong to J.K. Rowling and Takeshi Konomi respectively.**

Actually I never finished reading a book from Harry Potter series. Most of my research materials came from Harry Potter Wiki. I tried to get the fact straight, but if I missed some, don't hesitate to correct me.

Sorry, two weeks turned into three. I get roped into playing in a bridge tournament in my college.

Need I say? English is not my first language, probably, possibly, most certainly there are mistakes, especially grammar. Sorry and all that shit.

Anyway, this is the fifth chapter of Stupid Thirteen. Enjoy!

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><p><strong>Chapter 5<strong>

**Tour to Muggle London**

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><p><strong>31 July 1998, King's School Complex<strong>

A cab stopped in front of a gate of a magnificent school. Two persons stepped out of it. Well, a late teen girl and a five years old boy, to be exact. They stared in awe at the school complex before them. It was big, as big as, no it definitely bigger than Hogwarts. The sounds of footsteps snapped them out of their jaw-dropping.

"Excuse me, Miss," a man wearing a security guard's uniform said. "What is your business here?" he asked inquiringly.

Gathering her composure, Hermione spoke, "we need to go to primary school department. I need to enroll my little friend here. Is the principal in? Would you tell me the directions, please?"

"Yes, she is. Sure, certainly Miss. It's this way." The security guard gestured them to follow him.

"Come on, Harry!" Hermione took Harry's little hand in her. "We would not want you getting lost now, right?" Hermione said with a teasing grin.

Certainly not happy, Harry walked with Hermione toward the primary department's building. The hallway was empty. It was summer holidays after all.

"Here we are, Miss. If you would please excuse me," the man left them in front of a door marked Principal's Office.

Hermione glanced at Harry. Harry just shrugged his shoulder. "Well, here goes," Hermione knocked at the door. Few moments later, they entered the office and greeted by a secretary, a woman in her early twenties. It turned out that the principal was in a meeting with the school's benefactor at the moment. So, they waited for their turn.

After fifteen or so minutes, the door to the principal's room opened. Harry's attention drifted to the man wearing a suit that had just walked out. 'Wait, was that purplish hair I see?' Harry thought bewildered. With the man's projected aura of professionalism and businesslike, he looks like a company managing director or something. A man not to be trifled with, especially if he was the school's benefactor, even with his abnormally purple hair.**(1)**

Harry and Hermione entered the room. They saw a middle-aged woman sat behind the desk. The principal stand up and greeted them, "hello, please take a seat. I'm the primary department's principal, Evanna Wright. Welcome to King's Primary, Miss..."

"Granger. Hermione Granger, Mrs. Wright. And this is Harry." They shook hands and sat down.

"Miss Granger, what could I help you with?"

"I need to make an enrolment for Harry here, for the upcoming term," Hermione motioned to Harry.

"Is he your son, Miss? You looked too young to be a mother." The principal asked doubtfully.

"Oh, no," Hermione said mortified. "I'm just a family friend of sort. I've known him since he was little, you see."

"And where are his parents, if I may ask?"

"They're dead, since I was one." Harry answered.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Mrs. Wright gasped. Hating the pity in her voice, Harry just ignored her and looked around the office.

"Um," Hermione said awkwardly, "so, how about that enrolment?"

Mrs. Wright thought for a moment. Then, she asked Hermione, "sorry to ask something like this, Miss Granger. But, this is a private school and quite an expensive one at that. If he is an orphan, who would cover the education's cost?"

"This is supposed to be a secret," Hermione looked briefly at Harry, "but he hold the titles of Duke of Islington and Earl of Potter." The implications of said titles left unsaid.

The principal's eyes widened. "I'm sorry for my impudence, Your Grace." She bowed his head to Harry.

"Nah, it's okay," Harry said, "no need to bow."

The conversations halted by a sound of door knocked. The secretary walked in with a tray of teas. After the secretary left them, they continued their talks.

"Here's Harry's paper, Mrs. Wright." Hermione passed them to the principal.

"All seems to be in order. Harry need to take a placement test, though. Since class placement in this school is depend on students' academic score." Mrs. Wright explained.

Harry and Hermione exchanged a look. Hermione tilted her head in a questioning manner, Harry just shrugged. The perks of seven long years of friendship, sometimes they can silently communicate.

"If it's alright, can Harry take his test right now?" Hermione asked Mrs. Wright.

"Okay, wait a minute. I'll bring the necessary test." The principal left in search of said tests.

"Well then, Harry. Good luck with the test. I'll ask the secretary for some pamphlets of school rules and other things."

* * *

><p><strong>An hour later, outside of principal's office<strong>

Harry and Hermione left the principal's office. Harry had just done his test. While waiting for the test to be graded, they planned to tour around the school.

"Hey, Harry," Hermione started, "will you be joining a club? Since you were in quidditch club and all, I think you will be joining a sports club here."

"I plan to," answered Harry. "What clubs they have here?"

"They have the usual, team sports like football, basketball, cricket, and..." Hermione flipped through the pamphlets, "also individual sports such as badminton, tennis, track and field, and so on."

"Hmmm," Harry rubbed his chin, thinking. "I think I'll join badminton or tennis," he decided.

"Why?" Hermione asked. "With you being in team at Hogwarts, I thought you'll be joining football instead."

"In the quidditch team, I'm a seeker who is always alone most of the time, individual player to say. In St. Grogory's Primary School, although I was good at sports, I always the last one picked for a team. My stunted childhood with the Dursleys made me a little awry of team sports. Being the last one picked, it felt like I'm not wanted and can't really have a good teamwork with that kind of mindset." Harry explained. He took a breath, then continued, "in quidditch team, as I said, my position did not require me to really work in team. I just need to watch the score a little, so by the time I caught the snitch the final score resulted in our win, it's a simple as that."**(2)**

"Okay, if you say so." Hermione understood. "Have you ever played either one of them before?"

"I knew the basics, rules and point systems. I've played occasionally in PE before and quite good at that. I'm no good at doubles, though. Dudley could protest all he wanted, but he alone couldn't defeat me. Not that he has enough energy to move his fat lump of a body." Harry joked at the end.

They passed the time touring around the school. During the tour, Harry also checked the badminton club and tennis club. As expected from elite private school, the facilities are top notch.

"Say, Hermione," Harry said on the way back to the principal's office, "after this, let's go to shopping mall. I want to buy a whole new wardrobe that really fit to this body not a shrunken one that I wear now."

"Hoooo, so you are not in denial anymore," teased Hermione.

"Tch. It's not that it will be back anytime soon, my body that's it. I just have to wait and grow normally." Harry grumbled. "Ah, I also need to buy tennis equipments," he added.

"So, you've decided? Why choose tennis though, not badminton?" Hermione wanted to know.

Harry just muttered about net height and little body, or something like that. Hermione just smiled hearing that.

When Harry and Hermione arrived at the principal's office, Mrs. Wright told them that Harry will be in class 1-A, the class that hold students with best grades, for upcoming term. She gave them the booklist and school uniform. After finishing their business there, they left to their next destination, the shopping mall.

* * *

><p><strong>Some times later, a shopping mall in London<strong>

With Hermione accompanying him, the first thing that they did were shopping for books. They not only bought the books from the list, but also other books that Hermione deemed necessary for Harry. Hermione went a little bit overboard, though.

'Thanks Merlin for shrinking spell,' thought Harry. They used it when they were out of sight of the muggles, of course.

Brainy or not, Hermione still a girl. And given the chance to play 'dress up little Harry', enthusiastic was an understatement. They bought t-shirts, shorts, dress shirts, trousers, jeans, socks, shoes, all that Harry needed, and much to his embarrassment, undergarments.

In sports shop, Harry bought some tennis shirts and shorts, headband to keep his unruly mess of hairs from his eyes, and wristbands just because he thought it looks cool to wear. Some hustle-bustle, three tennis racket, few cans of tennis balls, some grip tapes, two pairs of tennis shoes, a tennis bag, and a platinum card swipe later, Harry and Hermione left the shop.

Taking out one of his new racket, Harry admired it. The smooth curve of the frame, the tension of the strings, Harry felt as though he'd just gotten a lifetime supply of treacle tart. The awestruck expression on his face made Hermione smiled fondly.

"Harry, watch where you..." Hermione words were cut when Harry bumped into someone.

Two little boy were sprawled on the floor. The collision caused Harry's oversized glasses slipped and fell from his face.

"How dare you bumped into ore-sama!" an arrogant voice said, if not a little high-pitched.

* * *

><p><strong>Notes on this chapter:<strong>

**(1) According to manga, Atobe has light brown hair. In the anime, he has black-purplish hair. I use the anime scheme color. In case you haven't guessed it, the man was Atobe's father.**

**(2) The whole 'good at sports but picked last' is true, according to wiki. The rest is my perception of Harry and also the explanation for his preferring individual sports.**

Comment, critic, question, flame, or whatever, you can write them all through PM or review.

Bye for now. YA-HA‼


	6. Chapter 6: Purple Blob Thing

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter and Prince of Tennis are not mine. They belong to J.K. Rowling and Takeshi Konomi respectively.**

Need I say? English is not my first language, probably, possibly, most certainly there are mistakes, especially grammar. Sorry and all that shit.

Author's Note: I'm supposed to update this chapter last weekend, but my laptop crashed. She (?) was in coma for a few days. Rest assured, now she's back and still going strong at her old age of 3 years 6 months and 13 days. Not that I'm counting, I just coincidentally remembered the day that I bought my laptop, and my phone, and my … Okay, enough of that. The sixth chapter of Stupid Thirteen. Enjoy!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 6<strong>

**Purple Blob Thing**

* * *

><p><em><strong>Last chapter:<strong>_

_Taking out one of his new racket, Harry admired it. The smooth curve of the frame, the tension of the strings, Harry felt as though he'd just gotten a lifetime supply of treacle tart. The awestruck expression on his face made Hermione smiled fondly._

"_Harry, watch where you..." Hermione words were cut when Harry bumped into someone._

_Two little boy were sprawled on the floor. The collision caused Harry's oversized glasses slipped and fell from his face._

"_How dare you bumped into ore-sama!" an arrogant voice said, if not a little high-pitched._

* * *

><p>'Ore-sama? What was that?' Harry thought confusedly. He squinted at where the voice originated and only saw a blob of purple.<p>

Still trying to comprehend what the purple blob was saying, Harry didn't give out any response. The purple blob before him huffed haughtily and Harry saw the thing moved. A second later, a crack like sound was heard, like a glass breaking. Or in this case, Harry's glasses stepped on.

Hermione, who was walking few steps behind Harry, couldn't really get what was going on. One second, she warned Harry to watch where he was going. And the next, Harry and another boy his age were sprawled on the floor. The arrogant boy said something about ore-sama, whatever was that, got up to leave, stepped on and broke Harry's glasses, and walked away haughtily as if nothing happened. The event played in front of her eyes left her speechless.

'What a brat!' Hermione thought to herself.

"…ne! Hermione!" Harry's voice calling her name snapped her out of her musing.

"Harry! You alright?" seeing Harry still sprawled on the floor, Hermione crouched and ask worriedly.

"I'm fine. My glasses, it's broken, isn't it?"

"Yeah. Just bear for a moment, okay. We're in the midst of muggles' view right now." Hermione told Harry as she helped him to stand up and picked his scattered tennis items and his broken glasses.

They walked out of the shopping mall and went to an alleyway. There, Hermione casted _Reparo_ to the broken glasses. She perched Harry's glasses back on the bridge of his nose. Then, she paused.

"Say, Harry. Have you ever thought about getting your eyesight corrected permanently?"

"I think it was somewhere on my to-do list…maybe. I, umm, forgot about it…" Harry said sheepishly.

"Sheeeesh. How could you have forgotten something like that? Did you know how many times your glasses broken by now?" Hermione asked rhetorically.

"Before, during, or after Hogwarts?" Harry replied innocently.

Hermione arched her brow, "You going to answer that? Serious?"

"Hmm, let's see…" Harry adopted a thinking pose, "in total, my glasses has been broken hundreds tens something times. I just hadn't been bothered to keep count after the first five times." he answered. "Oh, and I'm Harry, not Sirius," he added cheekily.

Hermione gave Harry an 'are-you-kidding-me?' look, "annoying brats. You and that other brat, both."

"Just so you know, I'm not a brat! Being perfectly sound of 18 years old mind and all!" Harry protested indignantly.

"Oh, really? You certainly didn't act like that. Are you sure that your mind didn't regressed too?" mocked Hermione.

"I've told you,… Wait! What other brat?" Harry asked confused. "Ah! You mean the purple blob thing that bumped into me?" he said in eureka like moment, deliberately changing the subject from his brat like act.

"Purple blob thing?" Hermione asked unbelieving. "Harry, I will ask you once more. Are you sure, I mean, really, really sure that your mind is still the same?"

"What can I say? I'm not wearing glasses and my eyesight was a bit blurry. So, there! Purple blob thing is an appropriate name!" Harry concluded smugly. "Speaking of eyesight, we need to hurry there before the shop closed. I'm going first, bye Mione! See you in Diagon!" with a crack, he apparated and left Hermione alone in the alleyway.

Hermione felt the need to strangle something, or a specific someone.

* * *

><p><strong>That night, Hogwarts' Great Hall<strong>

The Hall was decorated with floating balloons and other party decorations. Almost all of the Hogwarts' residences were inside. Professors, students, and volunteer workers have worked hard to restore Hogwarts back to its glory. The reparation nearly finished and would be completed two weeks before the new term started. Magic or not, repairing a war trodden castle and its ground took a bit of time.

Speaking of war, today the Hogwarts' residences gathered to celebrate one of the war hero's birthday, none other than Harry Potter. Yes, the now little Potter. All of Hogwarts' residence knew about Harry's unfortunate de-aged self, no thanks to Hogwarts' rumor mill.

The Hall's door opened. The now 18 years old in mind but 5 years old in body birthday boy entered. He stopped, amazed at the big banner which read "Happy Birthday Harry Potter!" at the front of the Hall. A big happy smile appeared on his face.

Harry and his friends seated at the Gryffindor table, eating, chatting, and enjoying the party.

"Hey, Harry," Neville started, "did you get a new glasses?"

"Yes, I don't need it, though. I got my eyesight corrected. I just wear this because I'm too used wearing glasses," Harry said and raised his new oval rimless glasses. **(1)**

"Where is your old one?" Ron asked.

"Oh, that. It was banished somewhere," Harry said nonchalantly.

"I still don't understand how could you broke your glasses, again, just by apparating," Hermione wondered.

"I'm just not used apparating in this body. Be thankful that I only broke the glasses. It could be worse, like splinching," Harry retorted.

"The count just increased..." Luna said dreamily out of nowhere.

"The count of … what?" Ginny asked confusedly.

"The count of …" Harry trailed, "ah‼" his head perked up, remembering something. "Yes, thank you Luna for reminding me," he said to Luna. He turned and answered Ginny's question, "the count of my glasses been broken increased from hundreds tens something times to hundreds tens something times plus one."

The others, except Luna, stared oddly at Harry, trying to make sense of what Harry was saying.

Suddenly, a sound of someone clearing their throat was heard. Six pairs of eyes looked at the source. There, Draco Malfoy stood awkwardly.

"What do you want, ferret?!" snapped Ron.

Ignoring Ron, Draco turned to Harry, "may I speak with you Potter, alone?"

"Like hell, you bloody git!" Ron shouted and looks like he wanted to punch the living daylights out of the blond. A small hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"Let me handle this, Ron. I'll be back in a moment," Harry said. He took his hand off Ron's shoulder. Tilting his head towards the door, he gestured Draco to follow him.

All movement halted. Silence dawned on the Hall. All pairs of eyes followed their movement as Harry and Draco walked out of the Hall. They wondered what would happen this time between the two rivals. They waited with a bated breath and the silence was broken by "what was that for, you scarhead?!" from what sounded like Draco's voice.

* * *

><p>"So, what do you want to talk about, Malfoy?" asked Harry as he closed the Hall's door and leaned his back on it.<p>

"I want to apologize to you," Draco said.

Harry blinked his eyes, trying to process what he just heard. 'Am I dreaming? Did Draco bloody Malfoy just apologize to me?' he astonished, and spontaneously kicked Draco's shin.

Draco hopped on one foot and his hand clutched at his kicked shin, "what was that for, you scarhead?!" he yelled.

"Oh, so I'm not dreaming," Harry concluded calmly.

Draco gaped at Harry, "that…you…aaaarggh!" he growled frustratingly.

Draco took a breath, composed himself, and started speaking, "I'm sorry for being a git to you all of this years."

"So, you've just realized that you are a git?" Harry cut him.

Draco glared, "You also give as good as you got, Potter."

"Aww, Malfoy, you make me blush," Harry said, rubbing the back of his head.

"You know very well that it's not a compliment, you speccy git," Draco grumbled.

"Sorry, sorry, couldn't help it," Harry grinned. "So, about that apology?"

"Um, yeah, sorry for being a mean git to you and your … friends. And thank you for saving me back there," Draco referred to the skirmish at the Room of Hidden Things. "So, truce?" he held out his right hand.

A feeling of déjà vu passed through both of them. The offered hand reminded them of the one from seven years ago, on their first train ride to Hogwarts. A few second passed, Harry just stared at the still held out hand. Draco felt a little hurt and about to lower his hand when Harry moved and grasped his hand.

Harry shook Draco's hand firmly, "of course, Draco. Can I call you Draco?" when Draco nodded, Harry continued, "forgive and forget, I'd say. We're family after all, right?"

"Yeah, we're related through the Blacks."

"Second cousin once removed or something, right?"

Draco looked at Harry, baffled, "that's actually … correct. How did you know that?"

"Eh, really? I just blurted it out. I just glimpsed at it at Gringgots today."

"Only you, Potter," Draco shook his head. "Just so you know, your grandmother from your father's side, Dorea Potter née Black, was the sibling of my great-grandfather on my mother's side, Pollux Black. So, our common ancestor was Cygnus Black, your great-grandfather and my great-great-grandfather. Hence, we are second cousin once removed," he elaborated.

"Is that so? Okay," Harry said, couldn't care less about the technicality. "And call me Harry, will you? I'm calling you Draco after all," he added.

"Out of the things I said, you just heard the first sentence, aren't you?"

"Oh, cousin! You know me so well. I'm touched, really."

"Whatever," Draco shrugged. "I just look foolish if I continue to argue with little kid like you."

"Ouch, cousin Draco! It hurts! It hurts right here!" Harry said dramatically, grasped the left side of his chest.

They paused and stared at each other, and then burst out laughing. Harry leaned too much on the door and it opened inward.

* * *

><p>The Hall's door opened and the first thing people heard was the sound of two people laughing. They looked in disbelief at the scene of the two rivals laughing together. Feeling the stares, Harry and Draco cleared their throats, attempted to reign in their laughter.<p>

"Cheerio, Draco!" Harry waved his hands and skipped towards Gryffindor's table.

"Yeah, later Harry."

Arriving at the table, Harry smiled widely at his friends, "hullo, peoples! Did you miss me?"

"Oh! So now it's 'Draco' and 'Harry'?! You sure are buddy-buddy with that ferret." Ron sniped.

"Aww, Ron. You're jealous? Don't worry, you're still my besties. After Hermione, of course."

Ron spluttered and his face became as red as his hair.

"Harry, don't antagonize him," scolded Hermione.

"But, Mione~," whined Harry, "it's so cool! He looked as red as boiled crab, with steam from his ears too," he pointed at Ron.

"Harry, stop it," Hermione said sternly.

Harry huffed, crossed his arms and pouted. Ron looked smug until Hermione scolded him too.

"And you no better, Ronald. Getting riled up by a taunt from a little kid." Hermione nag Ron, ignoring a miffed out "hey!" from Harry.

"I need to tell you something," Hermione looked at the faces of her friends, one by one, her expression solemn.

"Wh-what is it, Hermione?" Neville asked nervously.

They gulped, waiting for Hermione's words.

"Based on my research for more than two months," Hermione began.

'Oh, my! If it took that long for Hermione to research, it must be very important!' some of them thought.

"It's hopeless," continued Hermione.

"W-w-what?" Ginny's speech became like Quirrell's.

"Oh, it's not about you and Harry, Gin. I knew you both decided to better be friends."

Some frustrated yells of "we knew that already!" and "just spit it out!" were heard. Peoples from Gryffindor and other tables decided to listen in their conversation and getting anxious because of the elongated suspense.

"It is about Harry's condition."

"Yes?" some leaned forward in anticipation.

"His de-aged body triggered something. It seems that his childish side is amplified and affecting his mannerism. So, now he acted like a brat in accordance to his five years old body," finished Hermione

And laughter broke out in the Great Hall, much to Harry's chagrin.

* * *

><p><strong>Four weeks later, a street tennis court in London<strong>

Harry just finished hitting a ball against a wall. He packed his things into his tennis bag and about to go back home, to 12 Grimmauld Place. He has been living there with Kreacher for two weeks. A newly renovated, clean, and certainly habitable place that contrasted from the one that used during the war. It has indoor tennis court too, but Harry felt like going outside in that particular day. So, he went to a street tennis court.

The door of the wire-fenced tennis court opened and two boys roughly the same age as him entered the court. The first boy looked familiar. Then, it dawned on Harry. 'He is the purple blob thing!' Harry recognized him as the same boy that bumped into him, that he saw on Hermione's memories since his was a bit blurry at that time. When he saw Hermione's memories, he was going to call him purple head, since what he saw was not a blob anymore. But, a reproached look from Hermione prevented him in doing so. Thus, he still called him purple blob. **(2)**

Harry has a little difficulty to determine the second boy's age. He felt that the boy was younger than him. But, the stoic expression made it a little hard to says so. He has a darker skin tone than the pale purple blob. He has black hair with small spikes. Harry decided to call him stoic spikehead. Not really original, but easy to remember.

"_You will play tennis against ore-sama, na Kabaji?"_ the purple blob said in a foreign language which Harry didn't understood but he recognized it as Japanese.

'So, they're Japanese. Hmmmm, interesting. I need to find out the meaning of ore-sama, forgot to ask Hermione about that,' mused Harry.

'I hope we can meet again someday and play a match or two. Until then, purple blob, stoic spikehead!' Harry said inwardly to himself as he left the court.

* * *

><p><strong>Notes on this chapter:<strong>

**(1) Like Tezuka's glasses.**

**(2) If you don't get the insinuation, don't let yourself lost sleep over that. coughcoughcough**

Author's Note (again): To guest reviewers who signed him/herself as **Opinr** and **Appreciation**, and others who I can't reply one by one, thank you. I really appreciate all of your comments. Don't hesitate to tell me if you have any comment, critic, question, or found something that I made a mistake of, whether it's a fact of in regard of my writing.

Cheerio!


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